


Mortal Enemies: The Tale of the Snallygaster and the Dwayyo

by wyntera



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Strange Oddities Fanzine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 06:38:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17441810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntera/pseuds/wyntera
Summary: One of my pieces for Strange Oddities: A McHanzo Fanzine!Two little-known cryptids from the Appalachian mountains wage never-ending war against each other...or do they?





	Mortal Enemies: The Tale of the Snallygaster and the Dwayyo

**Author's Note:**

> More cryptids! I love these two; they're obscure and interesting and again from right in my backyard.

He’s late. Hanzo glances up at the harvest moon rising in the sky. Talons like glass shards click against the broken wooden fence he’s perched on. His long neck bends so a pronged antler can scratch an itch along his flank. The fireflies have been dancing for some time now, and the cicadas are just gearing up for their nightly song. He’s late, and with each passing minute Hanzo’s irritation grows. The raven beside him caws in agreement.

Impatience is beginning to shift to worry when he finally hears the crunch of leaves from the southern wood. His newfound raven friend takes to the sky as a hulking beast prowls out of the treeline. Fur shines dappled russet in the fading twilight, the creature’s broad chest heaving for breath after a long run. A frayed red serape flutters behind the creature, and a tattered cowboy hat rests on its bowed head.

Even from this distance Hanzo can tell the monster would tower over any mortal and send them cowering in fear. All Hanzo sees is an annoyance. “It is about time,” he says, posture straightening so he can look down his snout at the newcomer.

“Sorry, darlin’,” McCree says, sweeping off his hat to reveal a long muzzle, pinned ears, and golden eyes tinged with apologies. “Had a bit of a run-in with the game warden.”

“Nothing dangerous?” Hanzo asks, his gaze checking McCree’s frame for injuries.

“Just had to make him think twice before venturin’ into my mountains.”

“You mean  _ my  _ mountains.”

McCree smiles, his mouth stretching beyond reason into a feral grin that reveals sharp canines like rail spikes. His bushy, spotted tail untucks from between his legs and begins to wag. He holds a clawed paw out to help Hanzo from the fence. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, pumpkin.”

The stoic facade evaporates as Hanzo uncurls his long draconic body to step down to the ground, the silk embroidery along the edges of his blue cloak dragging in the dirt. He cards his talons through the thick scruff of McCree’s jaw in affectionate scratches. “How is my favorite mortal enemy?”

“Better be your only one,” McCree growls, leaning down. He nuzzles the length of Hanzo’s snout, paying special attention to the scaled tendrils that form his beard and eliciting a happy purr from his lover. “I’ve been missin’ you somethin’ fierce.”

“And I, you,” Hanzo admits. Then he spots the satchel cradled under McCree’s serape. “What have we here?”

“Oh, that?” McCree lifts the bag with his other arm, a prosthetic limb assembled from black oak and elk bone. “A treat, but that’s for later. The night is still young. Shall we?”

Hanzo shakes his lithe frame and two great wings emerge from beneath the cloak, all strong muscles and delicate scale-covered skin. His tail lashes out at the fence, splintering the wood and sending a chunk flying into the pasture behind him where a herd of cattle recoils from the monsters’ presence. “Lead the way.”

Under the autumn sky in the shadows of the Appalachians, two immortals set off on their monthly date night. That’s not what the humans would call it, of course. No, they would say two elusive cryptids are terrorizing the countryside with their eternal feud, leaving devastation in their wake. Hanzo has never much cared for the humans or their overactive imaginations, but McCree has a soft spot for them and Hanzo does enjoy humoring McCree and his hobbies. So while some nights are spent cuddled in the safety of one of their respective lairs, other times they have a night on the town, as it were. Roaming the pastures scaring livestock, dashing past remote cabin windows, lingering on the edges of campsites just out of range of the fire’s light, all the fun escapades of their youth.

Though, there are some things that Hanzo finds less than amusing.

“Look, a seven-pointed star,” McCree says, breaking through the underbrush and trotting up to a tobacco barn on the outskirts of a field. The wood is old and worn with age, but a new coat of paint delineates the odd symbol, twenty feet high on the upper level of the structure. McCree looks back at Hanzo with a besotted grin. “They’ve heard of you, my darlin’ Snallygaster.”

Hanzo follows, face a mixture of flattered and exasperated. “I cannot believe you have disgraced me with that name.”

“All I did was make the suggestion; the humans are the ones that spread it,” McCree replies.

“You started that infernal rumor and now they won’t call me by a fitting name, but instead that horrible made-up nonsense!”

McCree exhales a sigh that only a long-standing argument can bring forth. “I know, sweetheart, and I said I was sorry. But I gave you the star, as well! A symbol of how much your Dwayyo loves you?” He accompanies this with his best puppy-dog eyes. To anyone else they would be terrifying, but Hanzo cannot help but find himself charmed.

He looks up at the star with a critical eye. The humans believe the star acts as a ward to keep the Snallygaster at bay; to Hanzo it may as well be an engagement gift. Still, he has to give McCree a hard time. Tossing his snout, Hanzo declares, “I suppose it will do.”

The cackle McCree releases is loud and shrill, a hyena’s laugh after the kill, a chilling sound that carries all the way to the farmhouse in the distance. Moments later the lights in the house flick on one by one, including those on the back porch. McCree scratches at the ground, leaving enormous paw prints in the clay and loam. “Care to do the honors?”

Hanzo rears up and flaps his wings to gain some height, then slashes at the wood doors beneath the star. His talons leave deep gouges bigger and higher than any normal animal in these mountains could leave. Their deed done, the two flee back into the woods before the farmer comes to investigate.

Soon after most of the humans have retired to their homes, McCree and Hanzo retreat deeper into the mountains—purposefully crossing the backroads in front of late-night drivers. Deeper they go until there are only logging roads and hiking trails, and then further still. Their shared territory is vast, spanning both sides of the mountain range, with many hidden groves and thickets away from prying eyes. One of these is where McCree leads Hanzo, a high outcrop surrounded by hemlocks and loblollies with a gorgeous view of the valley below. They spread their cloaks on the grass and McCree reveals the contents of his satchel: a bottle of elderflower mead and an elk heart.

Hanzo gasps, taking in the scent of copper and iron. “My favorite!” He looks up at McCree, all soft eyes and sharp teeth. “Our first date. You remembered.”

“Of course I did,” McCree says, handing the heart to Hanzo so he can uncork the bottle. “Nothin’ but the best for my sugar cube.” 

Between sips of sparkling mead they share the heart and soft words, staining their claws and snouts crimson. Just as on that first date so many centuries ago, they pretend to watch the stars while actually watching each other. Hanzo’s eyes are drawn to the droplets on the lighter downy hairs at McCree’s throat, to the way the Dwayyo licks his chops and sucks the sticky mess from his paws. His gaze does not go unnoticed by McCree, whose sly grin flashes in the dark. “Feeling full, sweetheart?”

Hanzo crawls forward, his wings spreading out and blocking the moonlight. “You know I am always hungry for certain tastes,” he purrs, his forked tongue swiping along the throat McCree bares.

“That you are,” McCree murmurs, groaning when Hanzo nips at his pulse. Dragging his claws up Hanzo’s scaled sides, McCree flips their positions and shoves a powerful thigh between Hanzo’s hind legs. The move draws a grunt from Hanzo. “What’s wrong, Snallygaster? Mad your meal has some fight in him?”

“Hardly,” Hanzo snarls, baring his teeth at both the move and the endearment. “I love when you fight.” His talons dig into the ridge of hair along McCree’s spine and yank his head back; the sight of the Dwayyo straining in his hold is enough to make the blood sing in his veins. Lunging upward, he sinks fangs like needles into the meat of McCree’s shoulder. McCree roars with the mixture of pleasure and pain.

They grapple on the hard ground, fighting for dominance, tufts of fur and errant feathers drifting into the air. Hanzo manages to roll on top again and hooks the talons on the joints of his wings into the ground, the leverage enough to pin McCree down with his weight. “Mine,” Hanzo growls, biting every inch of McCree’s chest that he can reach.

McCree arches into it, hind legs bracing against the grass. “Yours,” he agrees, claws sliding over Hanzo’s scales to his hips. Their cocks have grown hard, emerging from their hidden sheaths to lay warm and slick between their legs. He draws Hanzo down and they both moan at the hot glide of skin on skin. The soft scales and fur on their bellies turn damp as they rut together, growing more desperate with each grind of their hips. 

A high whine begins in McCree’s chest and he drags his rough tongue up Hanzo’s jaw to a pointed ear, the noise and gesture knocking Hanzo off rhythm and over the edge. His jaws snap as he thrashes against his lover, riding out waves of ecstasy. McCree follows with a howl to the night sky that rattles the nerves of every creature for miles.

Struggling to catch his breath, Hanzo nuzzles McCree’s soft ears. Much to his embarrassment, the tentacles of his beard grip at the fringe along the sides of his lover’s face. McCree chuckles at the needy tendrils, reaching up and caressing them as they wrap possessively around his fingers. “Can’t get enough of me, huh babe?”

Hanzo lets out a low laugh, not bothering to deny it. “You know, your cockiness is why it took us so long to get together in the first place.”

“My cockiness? I recall you actin’ all high and mighty,” McCree argues. He stretches before tugging Hanzo down, long serpentine body draping along the powerful bulk of his own. “But we got it figured out eventually.”

“Hmm,” Hanzo agrees with a yawn, his eyes slitting shut in contentment. A nice nap would do them both good. He always finds McCree an excellent bed when he is inclined to sit still.

Their rest lasts all of ten seconds before a particular noise catches their attention, a sound the two cryptids are painfully familiar with. Eyes popping open, they glance at each other before attempting to scramble to their feet. But it is too late. Still wrapped around each other, they are hit by the beam of a flashlight through the trees.

Hanzo is off like a shot, wings carrying him up through the branches overhead with the agility of a bat, fast enough that the humans barely register he is there before he is gone. McCree is not so dextrous. He turns his gold reflective eyes toward the interlopers, takes one menacing step in their direction, and barks loud and shrill before they turn to run. His keen ears track their terrified screams until he is sure they won’t return. “Damn kids,” he mutters, retrieving his hat and their cloaks before taking off in the direction his partner flew.

He finds Hanzo high in a chestnut tree, his tail whipping with irritation. “Are they gone?”

“Runnin’ home scared witless, sweetheart,” McCree replies, shaking their cloaks free of grass and twigs.

“See? This is why I stay up the mountain. Fewer humans to deal with!”

McCree tugs his serape back into place around his shoulders and dons his hat. “They ain’t that bad.”

That earns him a scoff. “I do not see how you put up with them,” Hanzo says, staring down at McCree from his perch. “There are many things about you I still do not understand.”

“What do you mean?” McCree asks, head tipping to the side in a mannerism that is all canine. “I’m an open book.”

“We could have had this evening in the safety of our caves, nowhere near humans and their prying eyes or their judgment.” The scales on Hanzo’s face furrow as he considers McCree like a particularly complicated puzzle. “Yet you continue to tempt fate and lead us down to their settlements, playing the same games as when we were first at odds with one another. Why?”

Their eyes hold for a long moment, gold meeting gold, before McCree smiles. Not the stretching grin that contorts his face and spells trouble, but something softer, private. Something just for Hanzo. “Oh, darlin’, I thought you knew. Goin’ down there, chasin’ you around our territory? Just reminds me of all the reasons I fell in love with you in the first place.”

  
\---  
  


The next day a park ranger is dispatched up Catoctin Mountain. Three hikers showed up at the ranger’s station in the early hours before dawn ranting and raving about a monster attack in the park past Braddock Heights. One swears it was those two local legends, the Snallygaster and the Dwayyo. It’s not the first time the rangers have had to go out and ‘investigate’ a horror story parents tell their kids to keep them inside at night.

He finds the site and is taken aback. The tracks in the dirt are bigger than a wolf’s, bigger than a bear’s. Two sets converging in one place, signs of a struggle. Claw marks score the greenstone where the grass does not grow. Splatters of dried blood color the soil like rust. The ranger becomes aware that the forest has gone silent around him. He feels the weight of eyes.

Back at the station, he fills out the paperwork for an animal attack with a shaking hand.

_ Species: Unknown. _

**Author's Note:**

> If you like that and want more, want to check out my art, or just want to chat, come on by my tumblr! You can find me under username wyntera. And if twitter is more your game, come and join me there, just look for @ThreeCatDesigns. You can now also find me as wyntera on Pillowfort!
> 
> And hey. Thanks.


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